So the first article about Pickett’s disappearance refers to a police report obtained by the Indianapolis Star.
That story was written by Sandra Oliveros, with additional reporting by this dude Adam Bitterley,
which is a bummer of a last name, but anyway, he’s clearly the junior guy on the story, and a quick google shows him to be a recent IU grad.
“So I made up an email address that looks almost exactly like Sandra Oliveros’s and emailed Bitterley an order to send me a copy of the police report.
And he replied, like, ‘I can’t; I don’t have it on my home computer,’ so I told him to go the hell into the office and email it to me,
and he was like, ‘It’s Friday night,’ and I was, like, ‘I know it’s Friday night, but the news doesn’t stop breaking on the weekend;
do your job, or I’ll find someone else who will do it.’ And then he went to the fucking office and emailed me scans of the fucking police report.”
“Jesus.” “Welcome to the future, Holmesy. It’s not about hacking computers anymore; it’s about hacking human souls.
The file is in your email.” Sometimes I wondered if Daisy was my friend only because she needed a witness.
As the file downloaded, I glanced away from my screen, through the slits of the blinds to the parking lot outside.
A streetlight was shining right at us, which made everything around it look pitch-black.
I was trying to shake off a thought, but as I opened the police report and began scanning through it, the thought grew.
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